


Alarm

by consumptive_sphinx



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Art Student AU, Chemistry teacher Franklin, High School AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 20:00:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6253933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consumptive_sphinx/pseuds/consumptive_sphinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some idiot pulled the fire alarm.</p><p>He’s just glad it happened during fourth period, because A) that’s chemistry with Franklin and Alexander hates chemistry with Franklin, and B) because he has Aaron in his fourth-period class.</p><p>Not that he has a crush, or anything.</p><p>
  <em>(Set in the same 'verse as Portrait.)</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alarm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlueJayDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueJayDragon/gifts), [Eloa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eloa/gifts).



Some idiot pulled the fire alarm.

Alexander doesn’t actually know that, he reminds himself. It could be an actual fire - last year, right before finals week, somebody had thought it was a good idea to put a lit blunt into an unrepaired hole in the bathroom wall, and two months ago the garbage can in the girls’ locker room got set on fire - but it’s more likely that someone pulled the alarm to get out of taking a test / turning in a project / whatever. Alexander doesn’t pretend to know what’s going through the minds of his classmates.

He’s just glad it happened during fourth period, because A) that’s chemistry with Franklin and Alexander hates chemistry with Franklin, and B) because he has Aaron in his fourth-period class.

Not that he’s got a crush, or anything. Because that would be silly. Right.

(Even to himself, Alexander is not, and has never been, good at lying.)

Franklin takes roll again, even though they’ve gone a maximum of twenty yards. Predictably, everyone is still there, so the neat single-file line dissipates into a small clump of teenagers, sprawled out on the grass while alarms blare behind them.

Aaron is sitting against a tree, working on what looks like history homework for Von Steuben. Alexander flops down near him, drops his backpack with a loud thump - they were all trained in kindergarten to leave their stuff behind but nobody actually does. “Hey,” Alex says cheerfully, and he clamps down on the  _ I missed you, _ because it sounds too intimate.

Of course, Alexander is carrying a sketchbook that’s full of drawings of Aaron’s face at the moment. Intimacy is relative, he supposes.

He pulls out the sketchbook, glances at Aaron. Washington assigned a nature picture - was he hoping Alexander would find a different subject? He’ll be disappointed if so.

Aaron is looking upward, framed against a clear blue sky.

...The sky counts as nature, right?

Alexander starts drawing, sketching out the lines of Aaron’s throat and jawline. It’s a rough copy, but it’s enough to capture the image; he’ll do a more polished version at home. Maybe watercolor for the sky behind him? Alexander usually prefers colored pencils, but he doesn’t think he can get that color with anything but paint.

The bump of an Adam’s apple, the curve of Aaron’s pulse point. What would it be like to leave bruises there, to kiss his way up Aaron’s throat?

He barely notices the motion of his pencil - he’s drawn Aaron so any times that he doesn’t have to - until the alarms abruptly stop, the silence jarring now that Alexander has gotten used to the noise. Nobody moves to go; the bell to head back to class hasn’t rung, and now that the screeching is over, nobody really wants it too.

Aaron’s smiling now, soft and sweet, the homework lying forgotten on his lap. Alexander starts drawing his face; it won’t be in the finished product, but Alexander loves that smile. He doesn’t get to see it enough. Maybe he could make another piece out of it, he thinks, and then immediately scraps the idea. Too recognizable. Too obviously Aaron. 

The bell rings for them to go in. Alexander sighs and puts his pencil away. 

Another time, maybe.

Maybe.

He tucks the sketchbook under his arm and heads back to class.


End file.
